Fane nodded.
"Oh!" Joy filled her, along with love so intense, she thought her heart would soar free from her body. Throwing herself into Fane's arms, she snuggled against him to hug him tight. At last, they could be together without any hindrances to their happiness.
He returned her embrace, yet his hold seemed loose and reluctant, his posture tense. Doubt nibbled at her elation.
Before she could ask what was wrong, Fane said, "There is another, Rudd says, who will vouch for his innocence."
She raised her head from Fane's tunic. "Who?"
"Thomas."
She gasped and glanced at Rudd. "Why did you not tell me?"
He did not answer. His mouth drooped and his eyes were closed. A snort rattled in his throat as his chin slumped to his chest. Celeste continued her stitches.
"He is oblivious," Fane muttered.
"Is he all right?" Breaking free of his embrace, Rexana ran to the table. When she nudged her brother's good shoulder, he did not stir or awaken.
"Your brother will be fine in the morn, apart from a sore head. He is old enough to look after himself now." Wry laughter warmed Fane's words. "He is a man, Rexana, not a boy."
As she looked down at her brother, her cheeks warmed. "You are right."
"Of course I am."
She rolled her eyes toward the shadowed trusses overhead, then straightened. Fane had crossed to the lord's table. His gaze held residual mirth, yet also wariness.
He kept something from her.
Resisting a rush of uncertainty, she said, "Please advise me what he told you. I cannot wait until the morrow to ask him myself."
Fane rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Very well. If you remember, Rudd paid Thomas for the use of his barn. Rudd planned to schedule an important meeting there and invite all known traitors to attend. He also intended to send a missive to the king's ministers. If the crown forces attacked during the meeting, they would snare most of the traitors. The rebellion would be all but snuffed."
"But before that meeting could be set, your men captured Rudd at the tavern."
"Correct."
Frowning, she said, "I do not understand. When you came to Thomas's house, the day I rode off to visit him, Thomas claimed Rudd was a traitor."
"Rudd made Thomas swear not to reveal the truth, not even to you. Rudd feared being discovered and what Garmonn, the traitors' leader, might do. Your brother worried not only for himself, but for you. Brave Thomas even hid some documents for Rudd for a time."
"Until Rudd had the box and brooch made," she guessed.
Fane nodded. "Yet, Thomas is a loyal subject. When
Kester arrived at his home and began asking questions, Thomas would not lie before his lord's men. He admitted he loaned the barn to Rudd and had heard of Rudd's involvement with the traitors. After all, this is what Rudd wanted him to say. Your brother wanted to appear guilty."
"I see." She blinked. "I think."
Fane's expression shadowed. " '
Tis
a convoluted tale, I agree. No doubt Thomas's account will flesh out Rudd's. I plan to visit Thomas in the morn."
Rexana glanced at her brother, whose chest rose and fell in sound slumber. Just days ago, he was chained to the dungeon wall, condemned as a criminal. If the events of the past few days had unfolded in a different pattern, he might not have had the opportunity to prove his innocence and clear his name. Shutting out the dark thoughts, she said, "If Rudd was working in secret for the king, why did he not tell you during his imprisonment?"
"He feared the traitors in the other cell would hear, and that word might somehow leak to Garmonn." Fane's shoulders moved in a stiff shrug. "He also knew I had coerced you into marriage. Your brother did not trust me, for he thought me a ruthless barbarian, just like the rest of his peers."
Bitterness underscored Fane's words, yet as she stared at him across the distance separating them, fierce pride surged inside her. With his capture of the traitors, he had proven the king's wisdom in appointing him High Sheriff. Fane's triumph would soon be lauded throughout all of Warringham. He had fought with chivalry and honor, and proven himself worthy of the greatest respect. She could not wait to prove to him, in the solar, how much she admired him.
How she loved him.
With slow, loose-hipped strides, she crossed to him. "What will happen to Garmonn?"
As she neared, Fane's gaze narrowed. "He will answer for his crimes in the King's Courts, along with the other traitors."
Caution hummed in his tone, but she dismissed it. Fane might think she disagreed with his harsh intentions for Garmonn, but she did not. "As you know, milord, Lord Darwell is a powerful man. He may use his influence to free Garmonn."
She reached Fane's side. He stared down at her, determination gleaming in his eyes.
"Darwell will not succeed, Rexana. Trust me."
"I do, husband." Arching against him in sensual invitation, she slid both arms around his waist.
He tensed, as though her caress brought physical discomfort. He did not return her embrace. "Do you, Rexana?"
Disquiet whipped through her. "Aye, husband, I do." She drew back. Their hips and bellies touched, yet he seemed distant. Remote. Tipping her head up, she looked into his eyes. They gleamed with misery. A violent chill tore through her, like she had plummeted into the midst of a winter storm.
Forcing a sultry smile, she murmured, "At last, we can be together."
His eyes closed. A sigh shuddered through him, so harsh it seemed ripped from his very soul. "Celeste, leave us."
"Aye, milord." The maid picked up the bowl, and with hurried strides, left the hall.
Silence settled like a smothering fog. Rexana stared at her fingers, curled into the front of his fine-spun tunic. Fear stabbed through her. "What is wrong?"
"I wish you did trust me. Above all, you should have told me Garmonn had threatened your life."
Fane's outraged, disappointed tone stirred the loneliness which had lived with her for the past few days. "I could not. He might have killed Rudd."
A bitter smile twisted Fane's mouth. "You told me when I first proposed marriage that you did not love me, and never would. I realize now you spoke true then."
"Nay," she choked out. "I did not realize I would care for you as I do."
He caught her elbows and pushed her to arm's length. "The past days have shown me much, Rexana. Our marriage is not grounded in trust, but deception, a rotten foundation for a lifetime together." He shook his head, and his words became as rough as grating stone. "I had hoped to win your affection, yet I see that I dreamed of what will never be. I must accept our marriage will be a civilized but empty dance, not one of soul deep meaning, passion, or . . . love."
Hurt clawed into the torn, bleeding shell of her heart. "I do love you!"
Moisture shone in his eyes. "I want to believe you."
"Oh, Fane." Distress racked her, clouding her vision with scalding tears. "You are no barbarian. You are a kind, honorable, and loyal English lord. A man of whom I am very proud. A man I lo —"
"— have deceived, more than once."
"With Rudd cleared, I have no reason left to beguile you." She pleaded with all the torment churning in her soul. "Please believe me. I love you. I love you!"
A sound like a sob broke from him.
He released her. Turned away.
Wiping tears from her cheeks, Rexana stared at the rigid line of his back. Her womb throbbed with an intimate pain. She craved to kiss him, to prove how much she had missed him over the past difficult days. Yet, that intimacy seemed impossible.
"My body, heart, and soul are yours. Until the day I die," she croaked on a ragged whisper. "Tell me what I must do to prove my love, and I will do it."
Setting his hands on his hips, he bowed his head. The tunic shifted over his buttocks, and memories wounded her. The slow, wet mingle of lips and tongues. The thrust of his hard, skilled hips. The rush of desire that seemed to burn hotter in her veins now than ever before.
If she coaxed him, reminded him of all the wonder they had shared and the unhindered future that lay before them, would he come with her to the solar? Could they vanquish the hurts of the past days, to begin their dance anew?
Stretching out shaking fingers, she touched his shoulder. As he glanced up, his profile taut with anguish, she heard footfalls, then the squeal of a servant coming to a halt. "Milord."
Fane swept a hand over his face. " '
Tis
important, Winton?"
"Lord Darwell is here."
Shuffled footsteps echoed in the hall. Quelling a curse, Rexana turned to see Darwell hurrying toward them, his face sweaty and flushed.
"Sheriff, I bring important news. I —" Darwell halted, gaped at Rudd slumped at the table, then at her and scowling Fane. "Oh, my. Have I interrupted?"
As Fane strode toward Darwell, Rexana's hand listed to her side. Sadness crushed her. How composed Fane appeared after their conversation, while her eyes smarted and her soul seemed to be shattered into a thousand bleeding bits.
"I am glad you are here," Fane said, his tone brisk. "I planned to contact you in the morn. There is a matter we must discuss."